I had to make a decision between God and my kids, and I knew . . . that if I chose my kids, I didn’t have a prayer. But I didn’t care anymore. So we lost everything in one day.

—Sara Poisson, mother who left the Jehovah’s Witnesses as the only way to protect her children from her abusive husband

Abuse means, to me, using a person for whatever I want from her [or] him without asking for their agreement, without respecting their will and their interests. With children, it is very easy to do so, because they are loving. They trust their parents and most adults, and they don’t realize that they were abused, that their love had been exploited. Especially if they were forced to ignore their emotions from the beginning, they might have lost their sensibility for the warning signals.

—Alice Miller

Like many dynamic institutions, religion can be a source of great evil or unparalleled good. When we grasp God's grace -- or better, when we discover that we have been grasped by that grace -- it makes all the difference for us, and for our children.

—Mark Galli

[W]e must acknowledge that our religious communities have not fully upheld their
obligations to protect our children from violence. Through omission, denial and silence,
we have at times tolerated, perpetuated and ignored the reality of violence against
children in homes, families, institutions and communities, and not actively confronted
the suffering that this violence causes. Even as we have not fully lived up to our
responsibilities in this regard, we believe that religious communities must be part
of the solution to eradicating violence against children, and we commit ourselves
to take leadership in our religious communities and the broader society.

I heard the telephone ringing at the other end. Silly to ring at this time of day, really. There probably wouldn't be anybody there. Just as I was about to give up I heard my mother's voice."Hello?""Hello," I said nervously. "It's me!""Oh!" She sounded quite taken aback. It must be years since we'd last spoken on the telephone.. . . ."I've left," I said weakly. "I'm out.""You're out!" she screamed, astonished. "Oh. Well. Are you all right?""Yes, fine!" I lied breezily. Again I wanted no emotion. Not yet. I couldn't face it. "The dispensation came through this morning. And I'm back here because term starts tomorrow.""Do you want to come home?""Soon," I said.. . . ."And you're all right?" she repeated anxiously. How could I answer her really? What did people say to one another on this occasion after seven years of noncommunication? Now, in the crowded college lobby, I couldn't cope with too much love."Yes, I'm all right. Really."